


Touch You Everywhere

by tmariea (OccasionalArtist)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: (only relevant because I wanted Mikleo to have long hair), (yes we are defiling the feather earrings), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Feather Play, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/tmariea
Summary: Collectively, Sorey must have spent hours tracing his fingers and lips and tongue across every inch of Mikleo’s skin.  Tonight he wanted something different.  His fingers trailed down and along the edge of one of his feather earrings and then stilled.  That would be something different.





	Touch You Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the Feather PWP I've been talking about for a while. This piece does give me a bit of anxiety still, but hopefully it will be enjoyable for you all!
> 
> (Also, there are parts I wasn't able to look over super well because it is late and I needed to get this finished, so please pardon any mistakes)

Mikleo was a vision.  In Sorey’s opinion, he had a talent for looking beautiful in all contexts and all lightings, but he knew he had a bit of a bias.  One of his favorite, though, was the vision spread before him now: Mikleo with his hands tied above him to the headboard of their bed, long hair a loose spill of blue and white over the pillows, bare chest pale and inviting.  A slip of black fabric covered his eyes, which Sorey had placed there after kissing his temple.  And here he was lucky enough to be, kneeling between Mikleo’s spread, bent knees.

“Sorey?” Mikleo asked, curious and eager and usually not very patient.  But the waiting, that was part of the game too.  Sorey watched as his hands curled and uncurled in the air, as if reaching for something to touch.  His hips and shoulders shifted minutely.  In his pants, a bulge was already forming, even though Sorey had not touched him more than enough to remove his shirt, and tie his wrists and the blindfold.  But Mikleo had a brilliant imagination; undoubtedly his mind spun with fantasies and images of Sorey touching him.  Once, Sorey had tied him like this and then asked him to narrate his imaginings, which was perhaps one of the most arousing things he had ever heard.

As much as Sorey would love to hear what was on Mikleo’s mind, it would have to wait for another night.  Tonight, he was feeling that a vision as amazing as Mikleo deserved to be treated with reverence.  Part of why Sorey loved having him tied up was the opportunity to lavish him with love and affection and pleasure.  To bring him to the point of panting and begging, where every touch was heady and laced with intense desire.

But how?  Sorey brought a hand up to his ear and flicked at the point where the feathers connected to clasp of his earring as he thought.  Collectively, he must have spent hours tracing his fingers and lips and tongue across every inch of Mikleo’s skin.  Tonight he wanted something different.  His fingers trailed down and along the edge of one of his feathers and then stilled.  _That_ would be something different.  He ran his thumb across the feather again, and rubbed the tip between two fingers, paying attention to the way it felt on his skin.  Then he reached his other hand up to help undo the clasp.

Sorey held the earing in his palm for a moment, and felt a different sort of heat than usual creeping across his cheeks.  The last time he remembered being bashful in this sort of situation was a good while ago, but the thought of touching Mikleo with one of his feather earrings – the same ones he had worn his whole life – that was something else.  He plucked up the clasp between his fingers again and ran it down the inside of his forearm to test, felt the ticklish, tingling feeling in its wake.  He could only imagine how that would feel for Mikleo, bound and blindfolded, always unsure of where sensation would come from next.

Mind made up, he asked, “Can I try something new?  I’ll start small, on your hand.”

“That’s fine,” Mikleo breathed, making a valiant effort to conceal the anticipation in his voice now that things promised to get started.

“Alright, open your palm for me.”

His fingers uncurled, and Sorey cupped the back of his right hand so that he could hold it in place.  Mikleo’s hands made so many wonderful things, would touch him in so many wonderful ways, they deserved special treatment, after all.  Sorey traced the longer feather from the pad of Mikleo’s thumb down into the center of his palm, and let the smaller feather dangle and tickle where it may.  Mikleo hummed in reply, sounding half-inquisitive, half-content.  It was invitation enough for Sorey to run the feather down the rest of his fingers, making sure to only lift it at the crease of his wrist, just above the leather cuff that kept his arms trapped to the bed.  Once he gave each finger its proper attention, he leaned down to graze his teeth over the heel of Mikleo’s palm.  The small, just audible intake of breath he got in response was well worth it.  Then, he moved to the other hand to repeat the process.

Sorey sat back to study Mikleo’s face once he was done with the left hand.  A light blush dusted his cheeks, and crept under the blindfold.  His lips were just slightly parted and inviting.  Sorey was never one to turn down a polite invitation; he leaned forward for a kiss, just the lightest touch.  Mikleo lifted his head, trying to press into something heavier, but Sorey moved back enough to keep the faint contact.  “Not yet,” he murmured, making sure his breath and skin would just tickle his lips.  He straightened up again and asked, “Do you want me to touch you everywhere with this?”  He let the feather drift in a lazy circle over Mikleo’s palm to emphasize his point.

“Yes.”

Sorey could feel the smile growing on his face, and the heat growing in his belly, at the unabashed interest in that one word.  Permission granted, he was going to love every inch of Mikleo.  He started again with the point of the feather at his wrist, and dragged it down to the crease of his elbow in a long, slow stroke, and back up again.

“It’s soft.  What – mmm – is it?”

“A feather,” Sorey replied, as he turned it to the long-edge so he could trace it across his whole inner arm at once.

“It’s not,” Mikleo started and then paused, “one of yours?”

Sorey wished for a moment that there was no blindfold to separate him from those beautiful violet eyes; he loved to watch the flash of intelligence and curiosity in them as Mikleo put together the pieces of a puzzle.  “Perhaps,” he said, “but I’m not telling.”

It wasn’t a lie, a half-truth maybe.  But it was enough.  Mikleo’s face bloomed with red, the kind of blush Sorey had been hoping to see.  The kind of blush where if he could, he would have covered his mouth with a hand, despite the fact that it wouldn’t hide the blush at all.  As it was, he turned his head to the side, doing his best to bury himself in his hair and the pillow.

Sorey couldn’t help but smile and tell him how cute he was.  This did nothing to help with Mikleo’s blush. 

Satisfied with the excitement that lingered in his lover’s face, despite how red it was, Sorey returned to work.  Next, he let the feather glide up Mikleo’s upper arm.  He traced the outside first, up to his shoulder, where he drew concentric circles with the tip, at least as best as he could with Mikleo’s shoulders twisted towards the bed.  Mikleo shifted against his bonds, closer to the feather, as if he was seeking even more contact.

Sorey drew it away instead, and this time placed it back to the crease of his elbow for another long stroke along the inside of his arm.  Mikleo sighed at the sensation, but then twitched away as Sorey drew the point of the feather around the edge of his armpit.  He could tickle him, but that he might save for later.

The feather drifted across Mikleo’s collarbones next, where Sorey knew he was quite sensitive.  Only the lightest brush of the edge, but it still brought out the smallest moan.  Mikleo almost whined when Sorey left his collarbones alone in favor of tracing his other arm, this time in single, long strokes.

Arms done, Sorey contemplated Mikleo’s face.  Less would be better here, he thought, just to make sure the touch wouldn’t become more disorienting than pleasurable.  He satisfied himself with tracing the underside of his circlet.  Mikleo hummed and smiled, which prompted Sorey to trace that smile from corner to corner.  Those beautiful, full lips, which had always been so good at pouting, fell open just enough for a shallow inhale.  Then, with no warning, Mikleo’s tongue poked between his lips and flicked at the feather, setting it to swaying just above his mouth. 

Sorey could feel the blush crawling across his cheeks and down his neck.  He hadn’t expected that, but it had been both adorable and sensual, and now more than anything else he wanted to kiss Mikleo.  He ached to press their lips together, to nip and suck until they were wet and red and swollen, to wind their tongues together and breathe in every breath until neither of them had any left.

It seemed tonight would be a test of endurance for Sorey as well.

He held himself in check, and instead used the tip of the feather to move from the point of Mikleo’s chin down the column of his neck.  He spoke as the feather moved, saying, “Someone’s feeling cheeky tonight.”  Mikleo’s Adam’s apple bobbed under the sensation and the words, and set the feather to twitching yet again.

Next were the tendons on either side of his neck.  Sorey loved to trace his fingers and mouth there, to leave vibrant marks that Mikleo would let heal naturally over the course of days, but not yet.  No, instead, he finally returned to his collarbones, to make pass after pass with the feather.  Almost immediately, Mikleo’s breathing faltered into small moans.  Sorey kept at his task, diligently tracing the ridges, and swirling the feather in the dips, over and over again.

Mikleo’s pride was always a stubborn thing, so it did take a little while for a begging, “Please, Sorey,” to spill from his mouth.  Almost immediately, he caught his lip between his teeth, as if realizing and regretting his action.

For that, a reward might just be in order.  “Well, when you ask so nicely,” Sorey said, and lowered his head until his breath just ghosted across Mikleo’s collarbones.  One more moment of torture before he put his lips to the point at the center.  Mikleo’s reaction was worth it; his legs curled up on either side of Sorey while he squirmed, arms tugging lightly at the restraints and mouth letting spill a sigh that sounded like it could easily turn into a moan.  It did, when Sorey flicked his tongue across the skin and then grazed it with his teeth.

This was heaven for him, too.  He could taste a hint of sweat, and the sharpness of the perfume Mikleo had put on earlier that evening.  That wasn’t as good, but it didn’t matter, because the perfume made him smell like vanilla and rain.  Sorey had no idea how one could get both of those scents in one liquid, or make them mesh well together, but they did and he loved it.  He loved the feeling of warm skin against his lips and tongue, too, which only heated further as he suckled and bit until he could be sure the spot would still be there the next day.  “You’re so good, feel so good,” he murmured, just letting his lips brush against the abused skin.

Sorey was tempted, so very tempted, to continue down Mikleo’s sternum.  To create a line of marks all the way down his body.  It would look wonderful in the morning.  But, he still had a feather to attend to.  One last nip and then he placed the feather where his mouth had been, and drew it down over his sternum where he wished his mouth could be.

Next, he drew half-circle fan shapes over each side of Mikleo’s chest, starting at a point just below each nipple and flicking over it on his way up towards each shoulder.  For the most part, Mikleo’s breathing had calmed again, but it would catch just the tiniest bit whenever the feather moved across his nipples.  Once Sorey was done there, both were standing stiff and pink.  Sorey placed the feather above a nipple next, fully intending to keep teasing them as he drew a mirror image downwards.

He really should have counted on Mikleo’s sensitive sides.  The moment the feather flicked out onto his ribs, Sorey saw Mikleo’s face scrunch up.  His jaw worked tight to hold in sounds while his torso shied instinctively away from Sorey’s hand.  There wasn’t far he could go, though, and no escape as the feather flicked again and again in short little touches until his control failed and laughter spilled from his mouth.

“Ahhaha, stop, stop!” he cried, still trying to wiggle out of the feather’s path.  It wasn’t a particularly effective tactic where he couldn’t guess the point of the next attack.

Sorey grinned.  Mikleo could have used their safeword, and put a stop to the tickling if he really wanted to.  But he hadn’t, and so Sorey kept at it, moving the edges of the feather in small wiggles here and there all across his torso.  With each new movement he tried to be unpredictable, to outwit Mikleo’s squirming.  The best was when he could draw a slightly louder laugh, or watch the skin twitch under the feather’s point whenever he managed a spot which was completely unanticipated.

Keeping his goal to trace every bit of Mikleo in mind, Sorey continued until he was sure he’d covered all of his sensitive sides.  It was wonderful, he thought, wonderful when Mikleo laughed like this, breathy and uncontrolled.  It made him want to kiss him, to press their foreheads together, or nuzzle into Mikleo’s chest, or hold him as close as possible.  He would make sure to do all of these things later.

At this point, Mikleo’s face was contorted and red.  Sorey could tell he was having trouble catching his breath amongst his laughter.  He halted the tickle torture for now, and let the feathers dangle from the clasp where they could just barely brush the lowest point of Mikleo’s sternum.  That way, he could breathe for a moment, and also work himself up in anticipation of when it might start again.

“You are awful,” Mikleo hissed between his teeth as soon as he was able to get enough air.  That even was a close thing; he sounded winded, and annoyed, and just a bit aroused.  Sorey soaked it up.

Out loud, he hummed and said, “I don’t know if insulting me is in your best interests right now.”  He kept his voice light and cheerful, but lowered the feathers just a hair, just enough to convey his threat.  He glanced up at Mikleo’s face for the reaction.  He had lightly bit his lip at the sensation, but as if he could feel Sorey’s eyes on him, the teeth drew back and his expression contorted into what Sorey knew would amount to an impressive glare under the blindfold.

“I think you liked it, though,” Sorey continued, and began to draw the feathers down the center of Mikleo’s stomach with a steadier, firmer hand, in hopes that the sensation would skirt the line between ticklish and arousing.  The fingers of his free hand curled around Mikleo’s abused side and his thumb pressed up along his ribs, and then back down.  An unsteady moan spilled from Mikleo’s lips, and Sorey could feel the stutter in his breathing under his fingertips.  It was the kind of sound that went straight to the knot of arousal in his abdomen, and he wanted more of it.  He dipped the feather into Mikleo’s belly button and twisted slowly.

“S-Sorey,” Mikleo said before his voice cut off.  His mouth was hanging open now, his throat working around the strangled sound.

He found his voice again, enough for a series of tiny moans as Sorey painted stripes across his lower abdomen, and then traced the edge of his pants.  He drew it down onto the fabric, traced the shape of Mikleo’s erection through it.  “I doubt you can feel it, but I bet you know where this feather is right now,” he teased.

Mikleo’s head tipped to the side and his hips pushed up, desperate for any sort of contact, and Sorey smiled.  He was so eager, so needy, he would turn to putty in Sorey’s hands once he touched him for real.

“Maybe these should come off, then?  Would that help?”

Mikleo mumbled something towards the pillow, probably trying not to give in to Sorey’s teasing.

“Or maybe, I should just leave them on,” he continued, and drew the feather back up again to flirt amongst the pale, nearly invisible hairs that grew down from his bellybutton.

“ _Lords_ Sorey,” Mikleo groaned, “Take them off!”

Sorey complied.  He hooked a finger into each side, and drew the pants down slowly, savoring the way Mikleo moaned at the friction of the waistband against his groin.  The pants were tossed off to the side, and Sorey turned his attention to Mikleo’s legs.

Not much time was spent on his feet – there was a real and dangerous chance of being kicked, even if he did hold on tightly.  Next time, perhaps, cuffs at his ankles might be necessary.  Sorey swallowed hard at the thought of Mikleo tied completely, but a small whimper in objection to the pause reminded him of the task at hand.

Sorey painted swirls and spirals across his calves next.  There wasn’t much reaction there, but that was alright; every part of Mikleo’s beautiful skin still deserved special treatment.  The inside of his knee, though, that produced a sharp intake of breath, which only got harder as Sorey let the feather trail further and further down.  When it was about halfway down the back of Mikleo’s thigh, he lifted it and changed tactics.  Now, he used it to brush horizontal strokes on the inside of his leg, from the back to the front, each inching just a bit lower.  As soon as his legs started shaking, Sorey moved to working on the outside of his leg, and then to the other leg, switching back and forth until finally he reached the hem of Mikleo’s boxers.

There was a wet spot forming on the fabric, and they were tented up in a glorious way.  Sorey couldn’t resist tracing Mikleo’s cock through the fabric yet again.  And once more for good measure, before he pulled away that last barrier.

Mikleo eagerly lifted his bottom off the bed, and then his feet, to help Sorey rid him of his last garment.  Once he had settled back down, he whined, “Sorey.”

“Yes?” Sorey asked, his hands absently working on tracing the parts of Mikleo’s thighs that had been hidden by his shorts.  The rest of his attention went towards watching his face.  His cheeks were still a beautiful rosy color, although now more flushed with pleasure than embarrassment.  He could see each breath forming in his chest, hear it catch and stutter as he brought the feather all the way in to Mikleo’s groin and back out again.

“Stop teasing and touch me.”

“I could,” Sorey replied, bringing the feather in and letting it rest there before flicking it out once again.  “But there’s still more of you to touch with this.  I thought you said that’s what you wanted?”

“You’re awful,” Mikleo insisted.

“Yes.”

This time, Sorey conceded just the smallest bit, and used the feather to trace his bottom, first one side and then the other where it met the bed.  That done, he used his hands to push Mikleo’s legs just a bit farther apart, revealing his asshole.  He had a fleeting thought about needing to clean the feather later, before drawing the tip from just below the pucker all the way up to his balls.  The smaller feather swayed as he worked, brushing every once and a while along the tender skin just on the inside of Mikleo’s leg, and this always resulted in a tiny extra twitch.  Sorey loved it.  He drew the feather down again, as Mikleo panted and squirmed, and then turned it to the thin edge to repeat the motion.  A circle or two at the rim, and then he brought it up again to caress his balls, working in circles and spirals and lines across the soft skin.

“Please, Sorey,” Mikleo said, too worked up to care about his pride as much anymore.

“I love it when you ask,” Sorey replied.  He let the feather skim up to the base of his cock and then brushed it all the way up to the tip, while Mikleo gasped and then moaned.  He tried to arch his hips up off the bed, but Sorey held him down with his free hand.

Here was a wonderful opportunity to play, to watch and listen for Mikleo’s reactions.  Sorey took the feather and used it to trace his veins, from the base to the tip, and then sometimes, unexpectedly, back down again.  He played with brushing him with the tip of the feather, then the longer edge, then swirling it around his cock.   He found he could get an extra little gasp or moan out of Mikleo when he’d let it trail back down to his balls without warning, or flick all the way up and across the slit.

The longer Sorey spent at this pursuit, the louder and more insistent Mikleo’s voice became.  When he finally whimpered, “S-sorey,” that was as good a time as any to move things forward.  Sorey switched the earring to his left hand so he could use it to still brush up and down the point where Mikleo’s leg met his groin.

“I want… I want…” Mikleo panted, unable to even finish his sentence.  His hips shifted restlessly, desperately, and there were drips of precum running down his cock now.  Sorey used his forearm to try to stabilize those hips, and then wrapped his free hand around the base of his cock and started to slide it up and down.  “Ah!” Mikleo moaned, sharp and hard.  “Yes.  T-that’s it.”

Mikleo felt so good under Sorey’s hands, and he was never one to hesitate to say it.  The warm, pliant skin, the way his hand slid easier with each pass as he spread more precum with his fingers, he’d craved it nearly as much as Mikleo had craved his touch.  On the next pump, he used his fingers to pull down the foreskin gently, exposing the red, swollen head.  It begged to be tasted, and Sorey’s mouth watered at the thought.  He bent the rest of the way down so that he could swirl his tongue around the tip.  He relished the taste, salty with a slight tang.  Sorey drew his tongue back into his mouth to experience the full flavor, and then quick as he could, flicked it back out and over the slit.

Mikleo gasped.  Sorey could hear the creak of the bed as he strained against his restraints, and his thighs were trembling against Sorey’s ears.  He wasn’t going to last long, and after watching Mikleo squirm under his teasing, hearing him moan, and finally feeling him on his tongue, Sorey doubted he would either.

There was more to be had, though, if Mikleo wanted it.  Sorey wanted to make that good for him, to make it last, and as worked up as he was now, that wouldn’t happen.  He abandoned the earring on the bed so he could slide his hand into his own pants.  At the same time, he brought his mouth down to suck at the tip of Mikleo’s cock.

Sorey pumped his hands, one on Mikleo and one on himself, in time with the motion of his head as he bobbed down.  Even if it was just his own hand, the touch was a wonderful relief after all the time without.  He moaned, letting it vibrate along his lips and tongue, and heard Mikleo join him.  Satisfied, Sorey moved his mouth and his hands faster.

At first, he managed a pattern of how he sucked and where he used the tip or the flat of his tongue.  It didn’t take long, though, before he couldn’t keep it up under the sound of Mikleo moaning and the sparks of pleasure gathering in his own stomach.  He settled for working up to a simple, hard pace.

Mikleo’s legs curled up even further, as if he was trying to use his knees to hold Sorey in place in absence of his hands.  “More.  A-ah, Sorey.  More, _please_ ,” he demanded in a voice that was barely shaping the words.

Lords, if hearing Mikleo beg like that wasn’t one of Sorey’s favorite things.  He tightened his hand on himself, and let another moan rumble in his throat while he took even more into his mouth.

This resulted in a harder moan from Mikleo in reply, and a tensing in his thighs and hips.  Sorey brought his mouth away in time for Mikleo’s back to arch up off the bed as he came.  He kept his hands moving, on Mikleo and himself, while he drew out every bit of Mikleo’s orgasm that he could.

A few more pumps of his hand, combined with watching the blissful, open-mouthed look on Mikleo’s face as he came down, and Sorey was done for as well.  He squeezed his hand harder and groaned, as his muscles tightened and then released.

“Sorey, did you?” Mikleo asked, even though he still sounded as if he was catching his breath.

“Yeah, yeah.  I got so worked up, too.  And I didn’t know if you would want more,” Sorey said.

Even though it wasn’t phrased entirely as a question, Mikleo replied, “Yes, for sure.”

Sorey took a moment to discard his soiled pants, and wipe his hands off on them, before leaning up the bed so he could stroke a thumb along Mikleo’s cheek and then claim a kiss.  Mikleo hummed happily at the contact, and opened his mouth to invite Sorey’s tongue to glide slowly against his own.  When Sorey moved back, he asked, “Are you doing alright?”

“I think I just told you I want more,” Mikleo replied with a smirk.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Yes, and you’re very sweet.  Now, what kind of more did you have in mind?”

Sorey hummed in thought, and said, “That you might just have to find out.”

Mikleo huffed his play at annoyance, but shifted a bit to make himself more comfortable and waited for Sorey’s next move.

Now that he let his hands touch Mikleo freely, Sorey could hardly decide where.  He skimmed his fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of the strands and the way Mikleo would smile at being pet.  He brushed his hands down his throat and chest, ran them across his ticklish sides, and then returned up to Mikleo’s hands.  He slid their fingers together, and felt his heart squeeze tight as Mikleo’s fingers curled up into his in reply.  He was still smiling as he let go.

Before Sorey got to work again, he took the opportunity to collect their lube from the nightstand, and an extra pillow.  He encouraged Mikleo to lift his hips and slid the pillow underneath, then collected his earring from where it had been left and set to teasing more.  This time, he kept to Mikleo’s lower body.  He drew new patterns and painted new stripes along his abdomen, hips and thighs, slowly working his way inward.

By the time the flush had started to return to Mikleo’s cheeks and his cock, Sorey moved the feather to his perineum again.  He spent some time brushing up and down, and making small circles, listening for Mikleo’s hard breaths and claims of, “good.  Feels nice.”

Sorey paused in his work with the feather to take the opportunity to squeeze some lube onto the fingers of his other hand.  He set the bottle aside again, and took up the feather once more, to tease at his balls and cock more while he pressed a wet finger against Mikleo’s asshole.

“That’s, ahh, what you meant by more,” Mikleo said, sounding like he wasn’t in control of his breath once again.

“That is what I meant.  Do you want it?” Sorey asked.  Mikleo nodded, but that wasn’t quite what Sorey was looking for.  “You’ll have to tell me if it is.”

“Yes, keep going,” Mikleo implored, and then his words trailed off into a small moan as Sorey pressed his finger inside.

To start, Sorey used just the tip of his finger, to press and massage against the sensitive muscles at his rim.  Then he slid it in, and listened with relish and growing arousal in his own gut as Mikleo panted as he thrust it in and out.  He added the second finger soon after, and set to spreading Mikleo apart while he used the feather to brush up and down the underside of his cock.  Once Sorey felt that he was loose enough, he pushed in the third and then crooked his fingers to rub up at his walls.

Mikleo gasped, and then moaned as Sorey thrust his fingers against his prostate.  Sorey kept teasing, sometimes rubbing at it, and sometimes just sliding his fingers in and out.  Mikleo’s breathing got harder and faster as he worked, until he finally demanded, “fuck me.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” Sorey suggested, and gave his fingers another hard thrust.  He suspected that without the blindfold, and with a little better ability to concentrate, he would have been treated to a glare for that one.

“S – ahh – Sorey, please fuck me.”  Even though it was a plea, Mikleo did still manage to sound at least a bit put out at having to say it.

Sorey smiled and laughed a bit at the tone, but he said, “Anything you want.”  He withdrew his fingers, discarded the earring on the nightstand for good, and moved to spread lube over himself instead.  He’d grown hard listening to Mikleo again, and it felt good to run his wet fingers over his own length before kneeling down and moving into position.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Mikleo replied, and then cut off into a shallow intake of breath as Sorey wrapped his hands around his hips and began to push inside.  He bit his lip and let a moan of his own spill past at the tightness and the heat.

Sorey always went careful and slow at first, building himself an easy rhythm while Mikleo adjusted to his thrusts.  Tonight, he set that pace and carefully watched Mikleo’s face, as it morphed from small amounts of discomfort to only pleasure.  His breath came hard again, nearly into moans, but Sorey kept his pace, until Mikleo’s ankles wrapped around his waist and pushed.

He leaned down so he could kiss Mikleo, before pulling back and thrusting in faster and harder.  He swallowed the moan that rolled down Mikleo’s tongue, and the ones that came after it.  Once it came to the point of choosing to keep kissing or needing to breathe, Sorey sat up on his knees again and shifted Mikleo’s hips.

Mikleo moaned even harder than before.  His ankles tightened around Sorey’s waist even though his thighs were trembling.  “Yes, there, there!” he cried.  His hands twisted and clenched around the ropes which tied his cuffs to the bed, just for something to hold onto.

Sorey chased those cries, those pleas.  He delighted in every broken stumble of his name.  Every time it dropped the twisting feeling in his gut lower and lower, and he thrust harder, seeking more words and sounds from Mikleo’s open mouth.

When his thighs and stomach were starting to burn, he took Mikleo’s cock in his hand to pump in time with his thrusts.  As he rubbed his thumb across the head, Mikleo gasped and said, “I’m going to come.”

Sorey could feel it, too, in the way Mikleo’s muscles tightened around him.  He rubbed his thumb over the tip of Mikleo’s cock once, twice more before he spilled with a hard cry of Sorey’s name.  Sorey kept moving through Mikleo’s orgasm, and then pulled out to come across his stomach and chest.  Thoroughly spent, he slumped to the side, careful not to fall onto his lover.

For a few moments, the two of them lay still, coming down and working on catching their breath.  Once he felt a bit less winded, Sorey sat up and reached to undo the cuffs from Mikleo’s wrists.  “Lift your head, love,” he asked, and slid away the blindfold once he did.  Purple eyes blinked against the sudden flood of light, and Sorey used his thumbs to gently rub at Mikleo’s temples.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, thank you,” he said, and then tried to sit up.  He didn’t protest too much when Sorey put a hand in the center of his back to help lift him up.

While Mikleo circled his shoulders a few times, and then cupped his hands and summoned water to drink, Sorey climbed off the bed for a rag and wet it.  He also grabbed a hair brush while he was up, and set that off to the side to use later.  He sat in front of Mikleo, and set to wiping his stomach clean, and then himself.  Task done, he discarded the rag in the direction of the pile where he’d left their pants and underwear earlier.

Mikleo wrinkled his nose at the wet plop as it hit the floor.  “Are you just going to leave that there?”

“Yeah, probably.  I don’t want to get up and leave you again.  I will do the laundry in the morning.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“What, for saying I’ll do the laundry?” Sorey asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Oh yes, man after my own heart,” Mikleo said with a grin, and leaned back on his hands.

Sorey pouted, but shifted around the bed so he was behind Mikleo.  He picked up the brush, and ran his fingers through a section of Mikleo’s hair.  “Beautiful,” he commented; he always thought his hair looked like a cascading waterfall now that it was long.

Mikleo snorted and jabbed him lightly with an elbow, but he did sigh contentedly when Sorey started to brush.

He went slow, making sure to work gently at any knots he found, and to comb out every bit of hair.  With each pass of the brush, Mikleo seemed to melt just a little bit more, until he was leaning almost entirely onto Sorey’s shoulder.  “You know, it’s really hard to brush like this.”

“That’s okay,” Mikleo said, and brought up a hand to cover a yawn.  “You’ve definitely brushed everything by now.  And, I’ll have to do it again in the morning anyway.”

“Alright, alright,” Sorey conceded and set the brush aside, before turning down the lamp.  He helped push back the covers for Mikleo to crawl under, before lying down himself.  He swept the hair out of Mikleo’s face so he could take off his circlet and set it aside.

 Mikleo laughed a little bit as he reached up to help Sorey with his accessories.  “It’s a bit strange with one earring, huh?”

“Yeah, a little bit.  I’d say it was worth it, though.”

“You would.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Sorey asked.

“Oh no, I would, too.”  It was hard to see in the dark, but Sorey could swear he caught a flash of a smirk before Mikleo kissed his cheek and then snuggled down lower so he could rest his head against Sorey’s shoulder.  “Go to sleep.”

Sorey wound his arms around Mikleo’s back and nodded.  “Goodnight.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”  He could feel Mikleo start to absently trace feather-light patterns on the back of his hand, and he smiled.


End file.
